


Surrender

by Terreis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Possible AU, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, mission, post season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terreis/pseuds/Terreis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Trip and Fitz out of the picture, Coulson is the last remaining member of his particular crew.  In the snowy cold, he sets out to find the last surviving opponent.  Unfortunately for him, the opponent has rather unorthodox ideas as to the rules of combat.</p>
<p>Written in response to a post on Tumblr that I can't find, stating that they would like to see the team in a snowball fight and May basically shoving snow in Coulson's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

Everything around him was silent and still. The enormous snowflakes that still fell from the sky, the dwindling number an indication that this small snowstorm was nearly over, were the only sign of movement. He surveyed the landscape in front of him, honed senses automatically searching for the slightest hint that something was out of place. 

In the back of his mind, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of his surroundings. It was a beautiful day in spite of the cold. No wind to put an extra bite in the temperature. Just enough hazy cloud cover, courtesy of the passing storm, to keep the sunlight from lending a harsh glare to everything. Instead, the entire world seemed to shimmer as the veiled sun illuminated the snow in the trees and on the ground.

Yes, it was beautiful. After the last couple of years, Phil Coulson had taken extra care to lend some appreciation to such things. Even on missions. Even when the mission was as important as this one.

He was the only one left on his team. Trip had, surprisingly, been the first to go down. The only comfort was that he had taken one of the enemy down with him at the same time. Coulson had ordered the younger agent to retreat, sending him limping back to The Bus. Fitz managed to take out another of their opponents and almost succeeded in defeating the last one as well.

Almost was the key term. The last of the enemy had turned the tables and Fitz had also been forced into retreat while Coulson barely escaped to keep the fight going. It had been an hour since that happened. Since then, Coulson had his rival in his sights three separate times. Every time, he had just barely missed the target.

This had to come to an end soon. Underneath his very warm SHIELD gear, he was beginning to feel the cold. He wanted to get back to The Bus and check on his team. And…he was getting a little hungry. Surrender was not an option, though. Not with the stakes so high.

He headed west towards a small grove of trees across the clearing. It seemed to be the most likely direction at this point. His challenger had done a thorough job of covering tracks, but he was beginning to notice very tiny signs of disturbance in the soft drifts of snow. Coulson watched for any movement to his left or right, occasionally doing a swift turn around as he walked to make sure no one was trying to sneak up behind him.

When he reached the trees, his first instinct was to look up. Years of sparring with Barton had developed that particular habit. Seeing nothing, he turned his attention to the larger trees that could possibly make a great place to hide behind. Unfortunately, that’s where he made his mistake.

There was no warning. No sound at all. The only thing Coulson knew was that one minute he was rounding a tall oak tree and then there was darkness as sudden weight dropped on him from above, taking both of them down to the cold earth. Quickly regaining his equilibrium, he managed to grasp two arms and hold firmly in spite of the excellent fight being made to take them away. A fierce wrestling match ensued and he finally felt a stab of triumph as he rolled and pinned his opponent beneath him.

It was a short-lived feeling.

With lightning speed, a pair of legs that apparently were not as secure beneath his own as he had thought wrapped around his middle and Coulson found himself flat on his back. The enemy sat on his chest, pinning him very effectively no matter how much he flailed his legs in an attempt to get free. When one hand let go of his arm, Coulson’s first instinct was to attempt to gain the upper hand again. But the empty hand was suddenly filled with very cold snow and when the very cold snow got rubbed all over his face, all thought processes flew out the window.

It was relentless torture. That’s what it was. Cold and wet and altogether highly unpleasant. It took all of twenty seconds before Phil Coulson folded.

“I yield! I yield! You win!!”

The snow torture stopped immediately. Bringing his hands up to wipe the remainder of the stuff off his skin, Coulson glared up at the victor.

“It’s supposed to be a snowball fight, May. Do you understand the meaning of the word ‘snowball’? Why in God’s name did you rub snow all over my face?”

“Would you have surrendered if I hadn’t?” she inquired.

“No,” he responded immediately.

“That’s why.”

He rolled his eyes, still slightly peeved that he’d had to surrender.

“I looked in the trees. I’ve been able to find Barton when he was hiding in a tree. How did I miss you?”

She shrugged dismissively.

“I was very high up.”

The woman was a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in way too much other stuff for Coulson to deal with right now. Struggling just a little, he sighed.

“Are you going to get off me at some point? It’s cold down here.”

“First, we are going to discuss a few things. Mainly your duties as my chef for the next week.”

Coulson shook his head, further covering it with snow.

“No. I am not cooking for you. I’ll do anything else, but no cooking.”

“Rules are rules, Coulson,” she smiled down at him. “I’m the one who took you down. So you have to do any chore I ask of you for the next week. And I happen to know that you are an excellent cook. So, Chef Coulson, I will be making a menu up for you. I expect this menu to be followed to the letter and I want every meal served on time. No excuses.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“Well…” she continued, “I suppose exceptions could be made in the event of an emergency. If we have to fight our way out of a seemingly hopeless situation, for instance. Or if Simmons manages to set the kitchen on fire again.”

In spite of the situation, Coulson laughed. The sound widened May’s smile.

“Who would’ve thought such a brilliant scientist would be absolutely useless in the kitchen? Don’t say anything to her, May. She still feels bad about it.”

“Not a word, sir. I swear.”

Still smiling at the memory of Simmons and the fire that resulted when she tried to make macaroni and cheese (how could someone burn macaroni and cheese THAT badly?), Coulson finally gave in.

“Alright. Alright. I’m your chef for a week. Starting day after tomorrow. No,” he emphasized when she started to argue. “No sooner than that. I need to be sure we have the right ingredients for everything you want, after all.”

May looked down at him, clearly considering his argument.

“Fair enough. Day after tomorrow.”

“Great. Now…could you please get up?”

She smiled again.

“I don’t know. I like where I am. I’m rather comfortable like this. The view is nice,” she intoned playfully.

Coulson felt the rush of blood to his cheeks and cursed his complexion for the thousandth time since embarking on his still new relationship with May. She got a special kind of enjoyment out of making him blush. Determined to not let her get the upper hand, he took advantage of her relaxed stance.

The gasp of surprise when he flipped May onto her back was like music to his ears. She stared up at him, stunned at his unexpected move.

“Do you like where you are now?” he inquired.

For a moment, he wondered if he’d done anything wrong. There was a flash of steel in her eyes and he felt her tense beneath him. 

“Melinda?” Coulson asked, his voice filled with concern.

Her expression suddenly softened as she reached up and brushed a gloved hand against his face.

“I like the view either way,” she replied with a hint of a smile.

She raised her head up as he lowered his and their lips met halfway. It was a chaste kiss, considering the circumstances, but it knocked the breath from both of them nevertheless. When they pulled away, they remained only inches apart. They stayed like that for a minute or two, content to simply drink each other in. May broke the silence.

“Phil?”

“Yes?”

“…I’m cold.”

With a loud laugh, Coulson stood up and pulled May along with him. As they made their way back to The Bus, he switched on his radio to announce their impending arrival. The panicked voice of Jemma Simmons greeted him.

_“Oh, God. Sir, I didn’t mean to hurt him so badly!”_

Skye’s voice chimed in before Coulson could ask what was going on.

_“It’s just a twisted ankle. It’s not as bad as she’s making it sound, AC.”_

_“I have taken a valuable agent out of commission just because I was trying to win a snowball fight.”_

_“Jemma, it’s really not that big a deal. I’ve had much worse,”_ Trip tried to hide the amusement in his voice, but Coulson could still detect it.

_“Honestly, Jemma. Why not worry about me a little more? I’m the one with the gigantic bruise developing on my spine because of Fitz.”_

_“It was supposed to hit your arm, Skye. It’s not my fault you turned while it was in mid-air.”_

Coulson and May exchanged glances.

_“Are you sure it’s not broken, Trip? I could do a quick scan on it.”_

_“I’m fine, Jemma. I swear. It’s just a twisted ankle.”_

_“God! Fitz, did you put rocks in your snowballs or something? My back is killing me!”_

_“Ugh, such a baby. Don’t be so whiny, Skye. It’s only a bruise.”_

_“Oh, you’re one to-”_

In unison, the Director and his Second-in-Command turned off their radios. After a moment, Coulson turned to May.

“How cold are you?”

His question was rewarded with a very rare, slow-blossoming smile that he liked to think was reserved only for him.

“We can walk a little slower,” she informed him.

“Good to know,” he smiled back and took her hand as they leisurely strolled towards their chaotic home.

FIN


End file.
